


In Vino Veritas

by kingkraken



Category: A Song of Ice and Fire - George R. R. Martin
Genre: Backstory, Drinking & Talking, Friendship, Gen, I Wrote This Instead of Sleeping, Implied/Referenced Rape/Non-con
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2013-08-26
Updated: 2013-08-26
Packaged: 2017-12-24 17:39:54
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,183
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/942764
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/kingkraken/pseuds/kingkraken
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>In wine there is truth. And the truth to be found in the wine shared one autumn evening between a certain Lord Commander of the Night's Watch and his steward is that of matters of friendship and lives lived.</p>
            </blockquote>





	In Vino Veritas

He had just finished lighting the fire when the Lord Commander opened the door to his chambers. Satin stood up to attention and brushed the ashes off his trousers. 

 

“My lord.” Satin was always careful with his speech. He was always trying to improve it, trying to distance himself from his low-born status. Not that he would ever be treated as high-born because of his language, for rank was supposedly forgotten when one became a brother of the Night's Watch. Satin's only hope was that through his choice in speech people might assume he was something other than the whore's son he was born as, and the whore he had been in Oldtown. 

 

“Satin.” Jon Snow's voice was calm and courteous. Satin grew concerned. The calmer the Lord Commander was, the more worried he actually was. 

 

“Would you like me to fetch your meal, my lord?” Snow drew his frost-laden cloak off and shook it, the ice crystals sparkling as they fell unceremoniously to the cold stone floor. He looked very tired, Satin noticed. 

 

“ That would be very good, thank you. It has been an interesting day, to say the least.” 

 

Satin bowed and bustled off to the kitchen. Three-Finger Hobb had made his infamous stew, Satin observed, but the Lord Commander was lucky enough to have meat pie, which may or may not have been the exact same stew as the rest of the Night's Watch got, but with the added luxury of a crust baked on top, which really didn't make that much of a difference, truth be told. There was also a bun with raisins and nuts- the exact kind that had been served during the Battle of Castle Black. 

 

That was when he had first met the Lord Commander. Satin had seen Snow before, walking around, but it was there that they fought side-by-side. He'd liked Jon Snow right away, mostly because he didn't laugh at him and call him 'bum-boy' or 'cocksucker' like some of the other boys had, nor had Snow ridiculed him for the fact that he looked more like a girl than some girls did, nor had he asked him humiliating questions about how he liked to be fucked (“I don't,” he'd said) or how many clients passed between his legs in a day. Snow did none of those things, and Satin was grateful to him for that. During the battle, it felt as though all their past history had been erased. Jon Snow was no longer a high-born bastard, just as Satin was no longer a low-born whore. They were Jon and Satin, brothers, bound by the black of their cloaks to watch out for each other and the rest of the Watch. For the first time in his life, Satin felt like an equal, rather than someone less. Then Snow became Lord Commander, which Satin was pleased about, and had congratulated Snow whole-heartedly when he learned of the position, though he felt as though a massive divide had appeared between him and the only person he counted as a friend. It was not as though he was despised- he had been, and he had won most of his brothers over, but that didn't stop the whispers, the comments behind his back, the japes at his expense. As Satin left the kitchen, he passed a man who snorted in his direction and said, none to quietly to his friend, “There goes Lord Snow's personal whore.” Satin ignored it. It was better that way. 

 

He had been delighted when he was informed he was to be the Lord Commander's squire. It was an honour he hadn't even dreamt of. For the life of him, Satin couldn't figure out why Snow would have wanted him, a former whore, as his steward, but he had been chosen nonetheless. He wasn't particularly _good_ at it- he let the fire burn out, and was slow saddling Snow's horse sometimes, but he enjoyed working for someone he liked. He didn't think the Lord Commander considered him a friend, but he held on to the hope that someday he would be. 

 

When Satin entered the Lord Commander's rooms, he found Snow seated with his back to the door in an upholstered chair before the fire, staring intently into its depths, as though he was searching for answers. Satin contemplated making a joke about red priests and their fires, but decided against it. 

 

“My lord, your meal.” 

 

Snow stirred as though awaking from sleep. 

“Hmm... what? Oh, thank you, Satin. Just leave it on the table here.” He gestured to the oak table that stood next to the chair. Satin carefully placed the tray on it. 

 

“Wine, my lord?” Snow nodded, and Satin poured a cup from the flagon resting next to the meal. It hadn't been touched, as the fire proved to be more entertaining to Snow than food. 

 

Satin moved to the door, and, out of courtesy, turned. “Is that all, my lord?” 

 

There was no response, save a vague guttural “hmph” which Satin took to be a yes. He bowed towards the back of the chair, and turned on his heel to walk out of the room. 

 

He had just opened the door, when Snow called after him.

 

“Actually...”

 

He turned around. 

 

“Yes, my lord?”

 

Snow sighed. 

 

“Stay. I need someone to talk to. Sit down and have some wine with me.”

 

Satin was taken aback. The Lord Commander had never asked him to stay before; he was always dismissed to get his own dinner. For a brief moment he wondered if Snow was going to use him as a woman. Some of the men had tried, when he was new to the Wall. Three men had showed up in the middle of the night and tried to have their way, but they hadn't counted on the boy whore from Oldtown as being a fighter. They had been sent off with a few black eyes and serious bruises. No one had tried that again. But the Lord Commander wasn't that type of person- was he? Surely he wouldn't... _If I have to do it, I will do it_ , he told himself. _It could be worse_. He couldn't help thinking this way. Whenever someone gave him something, his first question was, _what do they want in return?_

 

Satin took a deep breath. He walked over and drew up the other upholstered chair to the right hand side of the table. The Lord Commander poured him a cup of wine and offered it to his steward. Satin took it gratefully. 

 

“Why did you request my presence, my lord?” 

 

Snow sighed, and looked down at the cup he held in his hands. 

 

“It has been a difficult day. I need someone to keep me company.”

 

Satin grew concerned again. “And by company you mean...”

 

Snow smiled at some private joke. “I would have already paid you if I wanted that sort of company.”

 

Satin stared glumly at his wine. Perhaps the Lord Commander was trying to simply get him drunk, so he could have his way without being fought. _He wouldn't though. Snow isn't that sort of person. At least, I think that he wouldn't._

He frowned. “I wasn't thinking you'd pay me. It wouldn't be the first time...”

 

Snow looked alarmed. “I'm not asking you to... I was joking. I don't want you to... I'm sorry you thought that was what I asked you here for.”

 

Satin felt his face redden as he realised his mistake. 

 

“You just want to talk.”

 

Snow nodded. 

 

“Why me?”

 

“Because you were the closest person to where I'm sitting. And because I would like to know you better than I do. I honestly couldn't say any more about you than that your name is Satin, you are eighteen, and you are from Oldtown.” 

 

 _And you were a whore_ , Satin thought privately as he sipped his wine. 

 

Satin forced himself to smile pleasantly at the Lord Commander. “What do you want to know, my lord?”

 

Snow drank from his cup before answering. He was already on his third cup, and Satin was quite certain that he was trying to drink away his worries. 

 

“Where were you born? Who were you born to? What was it like to grow up in Oldtown? Why did you leave? I'm curious.”

 

Satin thought for a moment, and then he began.

 

“I was born in Oldtown, in a brothel, as well you know. My mother was a whore there and-”

 

“What was her name?” Snow seemed suddenly very interested, almost frighteningly so. 

 

“Rose. Her name was Rose, my lord.”

 

Satin noted the look of great sadness that passed over Snow's face. He had only heard rumours of Snow's parentage- he was the bastard son of Lord Eddard Stark, that much was certain, but it was unknown who his mother was. Some said she had died birthing him, others said she had raised Snow before sending him to his father at the age of twelve. 

 

“What was she like?” Snow's voice was quieter, more contemplative. 

 

“She was very pretty, my lord- or at least that's what I thought. She had long black hair that fell in lazy curls down to the small of her back, and she had dark brown eyes that were full of kindness. She and I look much the same, so much so that we could be siblings. Mother was only sixteen when I was born. She named me for her favourite fabric...” Satin expected Snow to start laughing at that, but when he continued to stare into the fire Satin continued. “Her mother was a whore, and her mother's mother. I do not know who my father was.”

 

“I did not know my mother.”

 

The way Snow said it, so quiet and full of heartbreak, made Satin want to reach out and touch his arm, to comfort him, but of course he could not do that. So instead he took a great gulp of wine and said, “I'm sorry, my lord...”

 

“Jon. Please.”

 

“I'm sorry, Jon.”

 

Snow (rather, Jon)smiled sadly. Satin drained his cup and poured another. He didn't drink much normally, but the wine was very good. However, the wine was strong, and he felt a little drunk. That wasn't so good. If he wasn't careful, he could end up telling all manner of things to the Lord Commander. That being said, Jon was beginning to look very drunk indeed. Was that his fourth cup? 

 

Sooner or later, the inevitable question would arise. 

 

“Did you... serve men as a whore?”

 

 _There it is,_ Satin thought. Fourth cup for sure. 

 

Normally, he wouldn't have answered. But these weren't normal circumstances, and his tongue had been loosened by the wine. 

 

“Yes.”

 

“How old were you when you became... became a... a whore?”

 

Satin sighed. He hated this question, and had heard it from too many people to count. 

 

“Eight.”

 

To his credit, Jon looked shocked. “ _Eight?_ Are you serious?” 

 

Satin nodded, ashamed. “Certain clients like young boys. We aren't like girls, who have to be a certain age. It helps to be older, certainly, but it isn't necessary. It was my eighth name-day, the first time. My mother woke me up and told me that if I was good I would get a silver stag to keep for myself. She looked so sad, and I didn't understand why. I was then introduced to the client...” His voice trailed off, and Satin found himself trying not to cry.

 

Jon was silent, his long face grave. He shook his head. “That's not right. You were only a child.”

 

Satin sniffed. He really shouldn't drink wine- it made him prone to crying and made him look even more like a girl. “I was the son of a whore. My mother was a whore. It was expected. That didn't do anything for making me feel better, though.” He remembered a little boy sobbing in a blood-stained bed, staring at a silver coin held in his hand that he knew he should feel thankful for, and yet felt as though it had robbed him somehow. 

 

“I'm sorry. I shouldn't have brought that up. I've drunk too much wine tonight.” Jon looked abashed and concerned at his steward, who was weeping properly now. Satin felt a hand awkwardly touch his shoulder and grip it briefly. It was strange, but comforting, and he wiped his eyes on his sleeve. 

 

“That's alright.” He forced a smile. 

 

Jon wasn't done with questions, though. 

 

“Why did you join the Night's Watch?” 

 

Satin was beginning to seriously regret touching the wine. He said words before his brain had time to think about them. 

 

“I was sixteen, and was a whore. It wasn’t easy, though not for the reasons you probably think it was. When I was younger, I dreamt of sailing to other cities, seeing the great sights of the world, learning to read, learning to write, falling in love, being someone, _something,_ other than a whore. But I couldn't. When I was sixteen, I think part of me broke inside. I became obsessed with this one question, about what would happen to me when I got too old to be a whore. I don't know why it bothered me so much, except that perhaps I was realising that I would be a whore until I died, and I think that bothered me. I was foolish, and one day, I packed what few clothes I had, took my money, and went to the docks. I found a merchant ship that was travelling to Gulltown, and I asked the captain if I could buy passage there. He laughed at me, and said they were in need of a cabin boy. I, foolishly, gave him my entire purse, for “safekeeping”. It turned out being a cabin boy meant I stayed in a cabin for the entire journey, for the crew to use me as a woman whenever they felt like it. I felt betrayed and utterly alone. There was no one who was kind to me; I was just there as an object to be used and cast aside. After a certain point, I stopped caring about what happened. When we arrived in Gulltown, I was taken onto the dock and left, with only the clothes on my back. I was caught only a day later, trying to steal a loaf of bread. The ship's crew had left me with unsightly bruises and I couldn't …how should I put it... work... like that. They threw me into a cell in a dungeon, with several other thieves. I... I broke down completely. I thought for certain I was going to die, though they said they'd only take one of my hands. I hoped I would die. My life seemed to have gone from worse to worse to worse. 

 

“Then one of the wandering crows showed up, looking for recruits. Conwy, I think. He walked up to the cell I was in. 'Who wants to take the black instead of rotting down here?' he said, rather gruffly. I stood up abruptly. 'I will,' I said. Everyone in the cell laughed. 'The whore wants to take the black.' I remember one mocking. 'Going to spread your legs for the Lord Commander?'” Satin blushed, embarrassed when he realised who he was talking to. Jon looked undisturbed, or asleep, so Satin kept talking. He'd drunk too much wine and said too much to stop. “There were a few others who wanted to go, as well, and we left, sitting in the back of a creaking old cart. We arrived at the Wall many days later. It was impressive, to say the least. I remember thinking to myself, 'At least I will see one of the great wonders of the world before I die. I may never visit the Free Cities, nor fall in love, but at least I will be part of an ancient order that has guarded the Seven Kingdoms for thousands of years'...” He trailed off. 

 

“I met you during the Battle of Castle Black, remember?” 

 

Jon sighed and flexed his sword hand. “Yes.”

 

Satin paused, but before he could order his thoughts his words had already been said. 

 

“You loved her, didn't you?”

 

Jon was confused for a moment. “Oh... Yes. I did. She was the first woman I ever loved, and will be the last,'” he faced Satin. “Did you ever love a wo- someone?” 

 

Satin smiled sadly. “No. I was a whore. We aren't paid to _love_ people. You can never love someone who pays you.” 

 

“You've been with girls, though?” 

 

“I've never even kissed one.”

 

“Truly?”

 

“Truly truly.”

 

Jon couldn't contain himself, and began to laugh, though thanks to the amount of wine he'd consumed, ended up being more of a giggle than a proper laugh. It wasn't a pleasant laugh, but it was infectious, and moments later Satin found himself laughing too. 

 

“I'm sorry...” Jon said, wiping his eyes, though he didn't look too serious about it. 

 

There was nothing to do but laugh at it. Satin grinned. “That's alright. It's not every day you meet a virgin whore.” He had no idea why it had become so funny. 

 

Jon giggled. It was a rather unfortunate sound, coming from a man of almost seventeen.“You know what this means...”

 

Satin was confused. “What?”

 

“Both my friends are virgins.” 

 

“I was a whore, Jon, I'm not really pure and innocent...” But Satin's thoughts were not concerned with the stupid joke any more. What he was thinking about what Jon had just said: 'both my friends'. Did that mean he was Jon's friend? Satin figured that he might as well take advantage of the fact that they were both drunk. 

 

“Jon?”

 

“Hmm?”

 

“Am... am I your friend?” 

 

“Why wouldn't you be?”

 

“I'm your steward. I serve you.” He shrugged as if to say, _it's no great deal if I'm just your servant_ , though he knew that it mattered far more than that, for reasons he couldn't quite explain. 

 

Jon sighed. “I could have chosen someone else to be my steward. I chose you because I like you and because I consider you my friend. Does that answer your question?”

 

Satin nodded, and smiled to himself. _Jon is my friend_. 

 

“You're my friend too,” he said quickly. The corners of Jon's mouth turned up ever so slightly. 

 

“I should go.” Satin stood up and tried to walk in a straight line to the door. He managed, mostly. 

 

“Goodnight, Satin,” Jon called, sounding sleepy. 

 

“Goodnight, Jon.” Satin replied as he closed the door. 

 

He walked to his room slowly. _His friend. He said I am his friend.._ It was late, and Satin was tired, and drunk, and successfully managed to have walked into a few walls before he found his room and fell face first into bed. He saw some men watch him as he went by, probably thinking that the Lord Commander had chosen him for a reason. But none of that mattered. 

 

_I am his friend._

There was no better feeling in the world, he thought, than being called a friend. 

 


End file.
